The Making of a Machine
by wholocked12
Summary: When Sherlock was 16 years old he was introduced to his cousin Alexis, or as she preferred to be called, Alex Holmes. She is opposite of Sherlock in many ways, but she is also basically his twin. Alex is also the person that changed Sherlock into the machine he is today. The question is… how?
1. Prologue: Being a Machine

**Hi everyone! So this is my second story! Basically, for those of you who need a recap, this story is about how Sherlock came to be who he is today and how it all started with his cousin Alexis, or as she prefers to be called, Alex Holmes. She is just as open minded as her cousin, if not more so. So enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but Alexis Homes. The rest belongs to the great Moffat and Gatiss duo!**

John and Sherlock were in the middle of a fight over why Sherlock had to keep his experiments in the kitchen and throughout the house when John exploded, yelling, "Have you always been such a heartless person?!" Sherlock gave John an icy glare and stood to retreat to his room. He sat down and for once wished he would've said 'No', but no brought back raw memories that he shut out of his life. Sherlock Holmes was not a machine, he had a heart that people used to be able to see, but now it was too painful all for one reason. His cousin Alex Holmes.


	2. Chapter 1: Alex Holmes

**Hi again! I know, it's only been one day since I posted the last chapter, but I was really excited for this one to see what you guys think of Alex!**

**As always... Disclaimer: I own nothing except for Alex! The rest belongs to team of Moffat and Gatiss!**

_20 years earlier..._

"Alexis!" My mum called down the hallway of our tiny flat. "Time to get up! Don't want to miss your last day of school!" I didn't answer. I just laid there thinking about how today could be ruined. There were a few nice ideas already popping into my head. Five minutes later I heard my mum's hurried footsteps pounding down the hall. "Alexis!" she yelled through the door, "It's 6:30. For God's sake, get up!" She finally plowed through my thin wood door. I rolled onto my other side and propped my head up in my hand. She stared at me, waiting for me to say something in return.

"I would get up if my name were Alexis," I said with a smirk. Mum took a deep breath and let out a large sigh for her tiny frame.

"Alex, get up."

"Oh!" I exclaimed in mock surprise "You were talking to _me_?" She just rolled her big brown eyes at me and left. I gave out a little chuckle and rolled out of bed.

_Oh, I just live to get under everyone's skin,_ I thought as I rummaged through my closet for something to wear. Finally, I decided on a pair of black skinny jeans and a light green T-shirt. Quickly, I threw on my outfit and brushed my shoulder length wavy black hair into a pony tail. Unlike most girls in my grade, I didn't wear makeup. I found it quite unbecoming when they layered it on as thick as jam. As quickly as possible I put my contacts into my stormy grey eyes. Slipping on a pair of black high tops, I sauntered out into the living room to find my mum sitting at our small table in her bakery outfit. She was writing something down on a napkin with a black pen.

"What are you doing?" I asked going and getting a bowl out for cereal.

"Um," she muttered before I replied for her.

"You're writing down the address and phone number of your new boyfriend so you can go see him after work. You were going to tell me you had a new job interview so you would be home late. Mum, you know those things don't work with me so why even try?" I poured the milk on my cereal as I finished. I didn't especially like Wheaties, but they would work for today.

She just shook her head and gave a sarcastic little laugh. "You were right about me having a new boyfriend, but you were wrong about one thing. I wasn't going to tell you I would be home late because you're not going to be home," she said.

"Are you sending me away again?" I asked spooning a bite of cereal into my mouth as I brought it over to the table to sit across from her.

"I have never sent you away before only maybe had you spend a little time away from home-"

"Same thing," I muttered, interrupting her.

"Anyway, I am going to have you stay with your Aunt Violet, Uncle William, Mycroft, and Sherlock. You're going to stay there for the entire summer because I want to be able to get a another job and I don't want to worry about what you are getting into. Okay?" She asked. _Well that was sudden,_ I thought but didn't feel like saying it. Instead I just nodded, not looking up from my now-empty dish. The last time I had seen the Holmes family was six years ago, before my dad died. From what I remember about them, they lived in a large mansion type house. Mycroft was seven years older than Sherlock and I for that matter. We were both 16 so that must mean Mycroft was about 23 now. Apparently from the stories I've heard Sherlock and I were a lot alike so we didn't, and now wouldn't, get along. "Mycroft will pick you up after school. He will be in a black sports car."

"Bye," I muttered, getting up to leave. "See you in September." She tried to say something to me as I slung my backpack over my shoulder and headed down the steps, but I didn't hear a word she said. Not because I couldn't hear her over the sound of the ringing in my ears that I get when I am angry, though that is one reason I couldn't hear her, but because I didn't want her to go and try to make everything right for me like she always did. It never worked, so why should it now?

**So here it is! Maybe I will post the next chapter Saturday... I don't really know! I'll probably have it up sometime this weekend! As always reviews are completely welcome! (In case you're wondering, I like exclamation points:))**


	3. Chapter 2: Holmes Sweet Home

**Hi Again! I know its been a really long time from when I said I would post the next chapter! Anyway, so when I was away I got this chapter and another done. So enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock Holmes, but I do own Alex Holmes!**

* * *

The school day had come and gone just as every other. I had only got sent to the principal's office once which would make my mum happy since I was usually there two or three times a day. I was actually quite pleased with what I had done to end up there. There was a group of girls that constantly found it necessary to make unintelligent remarks on my person. Today was the day I decided to stop ignoring them and walking away with clenched fists and insults pounding against my lips. The leader of the group decided that it would be perfect if she made fun of my eye color of all the stupid things.

"Your eyes look like rain clouds," she said with a ridiculous snicker.

"And that 'witty' comment is supposed to affect me how?" I asked putting a sarcastic emphasis on _witty_ as I spun around on my heels to face the little brat.

For a moment she looked stunned that I actually said something to back to one of her little snide remarks. "Wow," she said in her nasally, high pitched voice. "I didn't even know you could talk," then she started laughing at herself.

"Oh I can talk alright," I said taking a step towards and cracking my knuckles for effect which made her shuffle her obviously new shoes backwards on the shiny, waxed floor. "Would you like to hear what I have to say about you Jenna?" I asked and without waiting for her answer I pushed onward. " I know that for two years you were anorexic because one of your little mates said you were gaining weight. I also know you had to go to group counseling to get over it. You desperately want a boyfriend and haven't been able to find one for over a year. Dear Lord help you. You think poorly of me because you don't feel good about yourself obviously going by my earlier statement. Let me give you a bit of advice though if you'd like to continue your existence on this planet. Next year if you say one word to me about anything, even if it has nothing to do with how I look or speak, I will make your life heck," I spat out the last words and with that I turned around and stalked down the hallway.

I wasn't surprised when during my next class I was called down to the office. It was actually sort of a relief since my teacher knew only how to speak in one tone of voice. The principal gave me one of the lectures I got every single day and one that I tuned out every single day. He told me that insulting other students the way I did was unacceptable and if I did it one more time I would be suspended. If he actually meant that threat I would've been suspended months ago. When he was finished I got to stay in the detention room for the rest of the day which was nice. For most kids it would've been torture, but for me it was heaven, I didn't have to talk to anyone and I could just be alone with my thoughts.

After school I walked outside to find the black sports car that my mother was describing to me sitting out front waiting for me. I opened the door and threw my backpack in the back seat and then scooted in next to it.

"Hello Alexis," a man's voice said from the drivers seat.

"Mycroft," I replied.

"How was your day, dear cousin?" He questioned starting up the car.

_Well_, I thought, _this is already going to be an interesting summer_, "Rule one: no one, not even my mother, calls me dear. Rule number two: my name is not cousin or Alexis, it's Alex. When called anything else I will not respond or a I may become infuriated, just as a warning," I retorted to his wording of the question.

"Well then Alexi-," he caught himself before making the same mistake again. "How was you day, Alex?" He asked rather disgustedly.

"Oh just splendid," I answered sarcastically staring out the car window and watching as we moved out of the city. I could practically hear his eye roll to my response.

After a moment I spoke loudly, "I see your day didn't go well.'

"Oh Lord don't tell me you're like your cousin Sherlock," he responded sounding displeased.

" I wouldn't know, haven't seen him in a while," I replied and then smirked. "But if you want me to tell you about your day, I will."

"If you are indeed anything like him," he said. "Then no, I would not like you to."

I just shrugged and looked out the window again. Five minutes later we arrived at the Holmes's mansion. It was a large white house that had dark green shutters with a matching door. The entrance was magnificent with the, again green, arch that towered over it and all of the plants that bloomed along its edges. Other than a few decorative trees surrounding parts of the house it was mostly surrounded by grass lands. In the way out distance you could see a large pond sitting with a little pier on its edge and one lonely tree sat next to it.

"Wow," I mumbled as I opened the car door to get a better look that wasn't through a window.

"This is really... Wow..." I trailed off speaking more to myself than to Mycroft standing next to me.

He looked down at me and gave me a sickeningly sweet smile. I resisted the immense desire I had to vomit and roll my eyes at him once again as I slung my backpack over my shoulder and walked ahead of him. Just as I was getting to the entrance a boy with a mess of dark curls sprinted out the door leaving the house wide open. It only took me a few seconds to realize that the boy was probably Sherlock. I looked back and saw that Mycroft had grabbed him by the arm and was talking,or shall I say yelling his lungs out at him. Sherlock, or whoever it was, was giving Mycroft a glare that could melt the entire North Pole in a matter of seconds. I just shrugged and continued my journey into the fortress.

The inside of the house, if possible, was even more extraordinary then the outside. It had dark cherry colored wooden floor with light tan colored walls engulfing a large entry way to an even bigger sitting room which had the nicest furniture you've ever seen. Dark brown leather furniture stood plush yet perfect in the room. The biggest, most grand fireplace stood almost as tall as me and probably longer than me if I laid down next to it. Two old black rocking chairs and blankets were placed before it along with a brown rug with a black design created in it. That part was the only part that looked out of place, it actually made this look like someone's house instead of a magazine. I practically jumped a foot when someone shoved past me from the door and I realized that it again, was my cousin.

"Hello to you too," I muttered waving a sarcastic hand in the direction in which he left the room.

"It looks as though Mummy and Dad went to one of their auctions," Mycroft said from behind me making me almost jump a foot in the air. "Let me show you to your room," he said with another disgusting smile.

I returned the smile and made it just as stupid as his was. He only frowned at me in return and turned around. I smirked as he lead me down a long corridor to a spiral staircase. Once we were up it he didn't turn around, but apologized for something I didn't understand. "I'm sorry, but the guest room is next to my brother's room."

"And why should that be a bad thing?" I asked innocently taking the key that he held out to me.

He gave a disgusted frown, which I learned quickly that disgusted was his specialty, and answered, "You''ll find out when you meet him."

With that he retreated down the corridor and towards the steps. I shrugged and slowly stuck the key in the door and was about to turn it when I heard an unfamiliar voice behind me.

"Can you go any slower?" Without even turning around I knew exactly who it was.

Apparently I hadn't heard the other door open while I was busying myself in opening the door.

"Of course I could," I replied. "Could you possibly think of any more polite ways to greet a guest?" I retorted as I turned the key completely and the door swung reveling a large light green room with a queen size bed that had a simple yet elegant chocolate brown comforter.

Sherlock took that time to dash in front if me and finally formally greet me. "Sherlock," he greeted extending a white bony hand.

"Alex," I replied shaking his with my equally white and bony hand.

"I thought it was-" I cut him off.

"I know what you thought. So do most people," I said dryly. "But it isn't Alexis, just Alex. If you want to know more have your poor excuse for a man of a brother tell you my rules about it."

He smiled a bit when I insulted his brother, but then it disappeared just as fast as it had come. After introductions there wasn't much except for staring at one another for a few seconds that felt extremely long.

Sherlock found a place to break the silence, "You know normally I can read everything about a person, but I can't read a thing about you," he inquired and cocked his head to the side in confusion.

"Same for me," I confessed staring right back at him.

"Really? I highly doubt that," he retorted raising an eyebrow and straightening from his slouched position so he had his full height to loom over me.

I smiled and straightened to my whole height also. When I did this I realized that I was only about three inches shorter than him which made my confidence in myself rise, "You wanna bet?" I asked.

He looked interested at the prospect of a bet. "Okay, you're on," he replied after a minute of thought. "We'll go down to the cafe tomorrow at noon and we take turns describing the people who walk past." The idea of playing a brain game with someone enthused me.

I stared straight into his sea colored eyes. "You're on, cousin."

* * *

**So, any ideas of whose going to come out on top of the game? I would love to hear your thoughts on Alex so far! Don't worry she isn't a mary sue, she has some things up her sleeve;) I'm hoping to get the next chapter posted by the weekend!**


	4. Chapter 3: Brain Games

**Hi all! Yeah, I know, I'm a bit late... well, actually a lot. This is by far my longest chapter yet and a lot of stuff goes down in this chapter so beware! I hope you enjoy!**

**Calgarry: Thanks for the review and advice, it's always very appreciated! **

**Disclaimer: As always I own nothing but Alex. It all belongs to the great Moftiss!**

* * *

The rest of the night had been rather interesting, starting with dinner. Aunt Violet and Uncle William arrived back at the house back at the house around 6 o'clock. They, well Aunt Violet anyway, were thrilled to see me. Uncle William didn't really take part in saying hello. The first thing I had to get straight with both of them was, of course, my name.

"Oh, Alexis dear it is so nice to see you!" Aunt Violet said when she saw me, engulfing me in a hug which wasn't the best since she was a bit on the bony side.

"M-" I tried to say but she interrupted me stepping back to gaze at me, taking in every aspect.

"Oh, how you've grown! You look so much like your cousin Sherlock! Such a fine young lady, will you just look at her, William!" _Great,_ I thought. _Now I look like a guy._

"Very nice," he mumbled in response after a once over. It made me snicker, but Aunt Violet huffed and turned back to me.

"I knew I forgot to tell you something!" she exclaimed suddenly. "Your luggage is in the car, dear. Roberto is just parking in the garage and he'll bring it in for you," she informed me.

"Okay, thanks. Can I ask you one thing?" I questioned, and without waiting for her answer I went on. "Can you not call me Alexis? I don't go by that anymore, I go by Alex." For a moment, she looked rather disgusted by the thought of a girl calling herself a name meant for a boy.

"Oh. All right, dear," she answered, pasting a fake smile to her thin lips.

As an awkward silence was about to completely engulf the room when Roberto came in carrying two black leather suitcases that I didn't recognize as my own.

Apparently Aunt Violet caught the questioning look on my face and answered, "Oh, I just brought a few suitcases by your flat for you to pack your things in." _Or for my mother to pack my things in,_ I thought, going over to take the luggage from him.

"Roberto will take it up to your room for you," Aunt Violet said before my hands encircled the handles. I simply shrugged and started the descent to my new room with Roberto in tow. When we were out of sight and almost at the stairs I slowed my pace to his.

"Roberto, right?" I asked. Surprised that anyone was even talking to him, he ignored me.

"Hello? Anyone home?" I tried again to get him to notice as we neared my room. This time he looked up at me so I waved in response.

"Hi," I greeted. "Alex," I said, introducing myself as he set my bags down in front of my door. I extended my hand.

"Hi, Alex," he replied with a thick Hispanic accent as he took my hand. I could tell he thought about what he did and made a quick retreat down the hallway.

"Bye," I said with a shrug and unlocked my door. Picking up the heavy luggage I hauled it in, closed the door again, and locked it. Setting the bags on my bed I quickly unzipped both and found what I was looking for in the second one. My notebook, blue pen, and MP3 player. Every night I would write in my notebook and listen to music. I put them in the oak nightstand that sat next to my bed. Next, I unpacked everything else and carefully placed my clothes in the walk in closet and my other 'valuables' in the oak dresser. When I was done, I flopped on my bed and promptly fell into a deep sleep.

I awoke when I heard a knock on my door. Alarmed, I quickly sprang from the bed and rushed to open the door. Standing outside was Sherlock. He had dark bags under his sea colored eyes and his fingertips were a blue color. His black curls were plastered to his scalp.

"A druggie, are we?" I asked taking his clammy hand and leading him into my bedroom. I settled his now-limp body in the wooden chair that sat in the corner.

"How long have you done this?" I questioned, going into the bathroom to get a wet rag to mop his forehead.

"Two months," he gasped around his swollen tongue. Returning with the washcloth to put on his head, I squatted down next to the chair as he held it to his head.

"So cousin, the question of the night is, why tell me?" I asked as I quickly got the garbage from the bathroom when his face turned the color of my walls. Running back, I set it in his lap just before he vomited and once again went limp, but this time with exhaustion.

"Okay," I held out. "If you won't answer that, then here is my thoughts about tonight. If you don't quit, you're going to die by age 20. Welcome to Alex Holmes rehab boot camp," I said, getting up from the ground to extend to my full height. "But for now you're lucky I've had practice with excuse making. If you showed up to dinner like that, you would be dead. I'm going to make you an excuse tonight, but that's it. Next time you'll have to fend for yourself," I finished as I led my wobbly cousin to his room next door. His room was a disastrous sight to be seen. It smelled rancid and looked like a hurricane had come through. "Something else that has just been added to the list of things to fix: your room," I told him as I cleared a spot for him on his bed. "Sweet dreams," I whispered as I left to go down to dinner.

My excuse for Sherlock was that he had the 24 hour flu. His mother wanted to go take care of him but after I insisted I had it taken care of she let be. The next morning, I woke early to the sound of birds calling. I stretched and rolled out of bed to find it was just after 7 o'clock. Bringing a pair of clothes, I went into the bathroom for a shower. After a few minutes of cursing the cold water that kept coming out of the faucet I finally got it to a steamy level that I was all right with being in. I took a very fast shower because I had to go check up on Sherlock to make sure he wasn't either shooting drugs up again or dying from the fiasco that he had made last night. When I got out of the shower I quickly put on a pair of light blue jean capris and a navy blue t-shirt. I decided to leave my hair down and let it air dry today, so I combed out the black waves that I had parted to the right. Quickly, I put on my light green, square shaped glasses because I was too lazy to put my contacts in. Putting on a pair of sandals to match my shirt, I left the room and locked the door behind me. I decided to knock first to see if he was up or if I was going to have to drag him out of bed and down to breakfast. After a moment, the door knob turned from the inside and in the doorway appeared a freshly groomed Sherlock. Apparently noticing the confused look on my face, Sherlock smiled and invited me into his room. "No thanks, I don't enjoy pig pens," I said dryly, holding my ground. Frowning, but still not saying anything, he pulled me in by the hand. I gasped when his room was revealed because it was sparkling clean. Looking in the wastebasket, I saw all the drugs that were sitting on his nightstand last night in it.

Crossing my arms suspiciously I asked, "What are you on now?"

"Nothing!" He replied throwing his arms in the air as if he were surrendering.

"In case you haven't learned a thing or two about me yet I can tell you what happened here," I said gesturing to the room around us.

"Please do," he said sarcastically leaning against the wall as I sauntered into the middle of the room.

"One of your maids cleaned this going by the smell lingering from the cleaner that was used on the floor. Your mother sent her up to check on you at," I paused swiping my finger over a desk that sat beside me. "5 o'clock. She saw the drugs and tossed them in the wastebasket and you made her promise not to tell your mum or else you would use something like black mail. Am I correct?" I finished, wiping my hands together and giving him a smug look as he nodded. I gave another glance around the grey room and shrugged. "You're definitely going to be harder than I thought," I muttered. "Let's go down to breakfast." I walked toward the door. "And, oh! I almost forgot. We have a game and a lunch date for later. Not going to wimp out, are we?" I asked smoothly as I pivoted to face him.

"Of course not," he retorted, pushing past me and running down the stairs. I smirked and ran after him. Breakfast consisted of anything you could think of. There were different meats, breads, jams, drinks, eggs, danishes, and lots of other things. Since I'm not really into food, I had a piece of toast with strawberry jam, a fried egg, sausage, and a glass of orange juice. The first thing I had a problem with today and last night was the silverware. My mother never taught me which forks or spoons were for what course of the meal. I watched what everyone else was using to eat with and just copied them. Another thing I noticed was that Aunt Violet chose favorites. She obviously preferred to spend time with Mycroft over Sherlock. Sherlock and I were the only two people who didn't take much to eat. He didn't even eat, he just pushed food around his plate with his fork and sometimes a spoon. It was completely silent except for the sound of chewing.

Sherlock was the first to say something after quite awhile of playing with his meal. "May I be excused?" He asked.

His father nodded and he jumped up from his chair and walked down the hallway to go back upstairs. When I was finished eating, I followed and went back up. Without knocking this time, I barged into his room to find him sitting on his bed with needle and vial in his hand.

"Shooting up again so early?" I questioned, which surprised him long enough for me to pry the drugs out of his hand.

Reading the vial aloud I began, "Cocaine, huh? Robbing your parents for drug money, or is it your brother?" I asked as I tossed it in the garbage. "I can't have you all drugged up for our game, can I?" I continued, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Don't you have any faults?" he asked with a huff.

"Of course I do," I responded biting my thumb nail. "I just hide them better than you do. Try making a list of all of them or something if it makes you feel better."

"Okay," he replied and got out a black and red notebook and opened it to a new page. "Nail biting," he mumbled with a smirk.

I just frowned, then my lips turned up a bit when a thought bounced into my head. "How about I make a list too and the person who has the most on their list by the end of the summer wins," I proposed.

"Fine," he replied.

After an awkward moment of silence I asked a random question, "Have you ever been down to the pond?"

"Of course I have," he answered, staring up at the white ceiling.

"Is it nice?"

"Yeah, I guess so. I haven't been down there in awhile though," he replied.

"See you at noon," I said after another silence before standing and leaving.

I knew as soon as I left he would grab his life out of the garbage and shoot it up and, like most things, there was nothing I could do about it.

At exactly noon I went over to Sherlock's room to either walk with him down to the car like a civilized person or drag him down. This time I knocked on his door again to see if he could even get up. I waited a few seconds and when I was about to break down the door, the handle turned and there was Sherlock, as clean cut as when I saw him that morning. Quickly, I pushed past him to check the wastebasket and to my surprise there were the drugs. They laid in the bin just as I had left them.

"You obviously didn't take them," I started. "But it is also obvious that you suffered withdrawal symptoms because once again you are clean cut so you took another shower. You also changed your clothes because the red polo you had on before has all of the sudden turned to a burnt orange and your khaki shorts got darker."

He ignored every single word I said and pointed to the black bag that hung over my left shoulder. "Want to know what's in your bag?" he asked, still staring at the bag as though he could see through it.

"Not especially," I responded, turning and guarding it with my body.

Surprisingly he didn't go on, but only shrugged and walked out the door mumbling something that was either, "I'll find out later," or, "It'll show later."I ran downstairs and outside into the warm, humid air. There was a black jeep waiting outside with Sherlock driving. I dashed around to the other side and hopped into the passenger seat. He had classical music coming softly out of the stereo which was not my style so I reached over and changed it to a pop station. As soon as it was blasting the song Sherlock reached over, turned it down, and switched it back to his classical station. I shook my head, looked down at my feet, and switched it back. This went on until we pulled up to the café and parked. I ended up winning because I changed it last, which I was very proud of. Opening the car door, I leapt out and grabbed my bag that had been sitting next to me. He was already almost at the entrance so I decided to bother him and walked slower. Sherlock looked back to see if I was even coming. I just smiled back as I kept going at my turtle speed. When I finally reached the door, Sherlock was leaning against the frame inside.

"Would you like a wheelchair, Grandmother?" he asked, opening another door to the main restaurant.

"Do you have one on you?" I asked, walking up to the counter to order so he couldn't respond.

"Welcome to Speedy's Cafe, how may I help you?" The man behind the counter said, trailing off in his monotone voice.

"Um, can I get a red velvet latte and a strawberry vinaigrette salad?" I asked as I reached into my pocket to fish out some cash.

"£9.45," he replied after typing my order into the cash register.

I handed him the money and grabbed the receipt that he handed me. He gave Sherlock the same little rundown before he ordered.

"I'll take a large black coffee and a vegetable wrap," he said without any thought which meant he had been here many times before.

"£8.75," the man behind the counter said and Sherlock gave him a credit card which surprised me. I watched him sign his brother's name on the panel and receipt which made me stifle a laugh.

While we were waiting for our food, I decided to ask him about the card. "How long have you had Mycroft's card?"

"Oh, I've had this one for three days I believe," he replied, leaning against the counter.

"That one?" I asked with a chuckle, humored at the thought that he might have a collection of his brother's credit cards somewhere.

"Yes, I pickpocket him when he's annoying," he answered, pulling three cards out of his pocket along with the one he just paid with.

"I can see why you have so many," I said.

"Here," he said, giving me one. "I probably have four more at the house. I think he's beginning to wonder how he keeps losing so many and if he's actually losing them. It's about time, it's been going on for ages."

Once we had our food, we decided to sit outside to get a better view of passersby. We sat at a table on the outskirts of the rest restaurant. Sherlock said, "Ladies first." He gestured toward me.

"Wimp," I muttered with a smirk as I gazed around for my first victim. "Over there," I said after a moment as I leisurely pointed a hand at a young couple entranced in each others' company. "The woman is about, I'd say, five years older and has been married, once, no, two times before. She is about 35, but uses as much makeup as possible to hide her age from everyone. He is completely oblivious to that fact and is completely infatuated with someone he somehow believes to be younger than him by the way he runs his hand through his hair every once and awhile and then both down his legs. She isn't as in love judging by the way she is dressed, but she wants to be in a relationship again. Am I correct?" I finished and took a sip of my latte.

He nodded and then said, "Okay, my turn." He gazed around for a moment and settled on a man sitting by himself at a table with a laptop.  
"Early forties, judging by his hairline receding at a rapid rate. Not married, never has been, and has no intention to be. He loves his work, which is probably computer engineering going by the laptop he has. His clothes tell us another story. While he holds a well-paying job, he obviously lives with his parents going by how much starch has been put in his button-down. The seams of his pants are also sharp and crisp, suggesting intense ironing on his mother's part. He holds himself in a rather professional manner, meaning he is proud of what he does and how he does it," Sherlock finished with a grin.

I nodded in return because that was everything I had gotten from looking at him too.

"Round two," I said taking another drink of my latte.

He gestured to me, signaling for me to choose someone for my next target. I scanned my searching gaze over the customers eating happily.

"Hmmm," I mumbled, finally landing my eyes on a older couple who were eating slowly without conversation."I choose them," I decided, vaguely gesturing in their direction.

"Married about 30 years going on the faded rings and callused marks surrounding them. Mostly happy marriage with a few flips down the line. The man has been married before, but his first wife surprisingly left him after 20 years of marriage. I believe by the worry lines that still crease his face but are faded mean that she left him for another man. The woman was clearly a baker going by the way her hands hold the silver she is using. They already know everything about each other so they don't find any need to start small talk. They both feel comfortable how they are," I finished leaning back and folding my hands across my chest.

Sherlock continued looking at them as if considering what I had just said. After a few seconds he turned back to me and nodded signifying that I was, indeed, once again correct. Smirking, I leaned forward so I could finish my meal. Sherlock gazed around at the remaining people eating and choose a single woman.

"She just got off work judging by the way she is using her feet to fiddle with her shoes. The shoes are heels, suggesting something fancy as a job and I'm going with lawyer by the suit she is wearing. She just got off a long trial which would obviously make her feet tired and sore. The trial was a hard one since she has circles under her eyes that she poorly attempted to cover with makeup. Not married, since being a lawyer would get in the way of having a family. She enjoys her job most of the time and she doesn't mind being by herself," he deducted as he drained the coffee that was left in his mug.

I nodded after a moment of processing information. "I guess this trait runs in the family," I said as I stood up to throw away the garbage from my meal.

I checked my watch and it read 1 o'clock. We were expected back at the house at 1:30 according to Aunt Violet. Sherlock came over to where I was standing and tossed his remaining wrap in the garbage.

"Ready?" he asked and without waiting for an answer, strolled over to his jeep.

I shook my head slightly and followed. The music station game continued once again in the car. I wanted to listen to Pinball Wizard, but he wanted to listen to some soothing orchestra piece that was playing on a different station. This time, however, we agreed on a station. It was playing a Beatles song which I enjoyed and by the way he looked, he did too. When we pulled into the garage, something weird happened. Being the slow person that I am, it took me a few minutes to get myself out of the car. When I was walking toward the exit to the garage I was looking down, which was what got me.

"I didn't know you were so clumsy," Sherlock chuckled as I ran into him since he was standing in front of the door.

Scowling I looked up at him. "For starters, I wouldn't have run into you if you weren't blocking the exit. Secondly, why are you still here?"

"I thought you and your massive intellect would've figured that out by now," he replied opening the door and sauntering over to the house.

Truth be told, I couldn't figure out much about him. The only thing that made me feel better was that I was almost positive that the feeling was mutual. When I got up to the door to the house, he was conversing with Mycroft about something. I could tell that it was not what you would call a light discussion as I rounded the corner because they both were raising their voices to new levels.

When I passed I muttered loud enough for them to hear, "Girls, girls... get a grip. You can take turns holding the doll."

I started to laugh at myself when I was in the house and I also noticed I didn't hear any more discussion between the two. I went up to my room and flopped on my bed with my notebook, waiting for the next idea to pop into my head.

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**Okay! So that's it for now. Like it? Love it? Hugged the computer? Don't like it? Hate it? Threw it out the window so you aren't reading this? I would love some feedback on what you guys think!**


	5. Chapter 4: A Fight for Two

**Hi everyone! I know, once again I am very late with this chapter! Anyway in this chapter you find out a little more about Alex. I hope you enjoy!**

**calgarry: Once again thank you for the lovely review. I'm glad you enjoy the rivalry! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. He belongs to the great duo of Moffat and Gatiss! However I do own Alex. :}**

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I stayed in my room until about 4 o'clock. The pond was still nagging at me, and for some reason I _really_ wanted to go see what it looked like. Dinner was at 6 so I had two hours. I grabbed my bag and stuffed my MP3 player, notebook, and pen inside. My escape from the house without anyone, namely Aunt Violet, noticing was simple. I walked down the steps after making sure Sherlock's door was shut and dashed out the door. It was that simple since Mycroft was in town doing something and Aunt Violet and Uncle William were having a card game in the dining room with some friends and they were so caught up in it they wouldn't have noticed if I had run the house down with Sherlock's jeep. The air outside was still warm, but not as humid as it had been before. I decided to go barefoot so the manicured grass was soft and the slightest bit moist under my feet. It only took a few minutes until I was down at the pond sitting on the edge of the pier. I pushed up the legs of my capris and dipped my feet in the water. It was cool and clear so you could almost see the bottom where tiny fish swam around ceaselessly in tiny circles. It puzzled me how they were content just swimming circles for the entire day and the next and the next after that.

A cool breeze ruffled my hair and I took that moment to pull a small square package out of my bag along with a rectangular container filled with liquid. I took one long stick out of the package and put in my mouth to light it on fire. My lungs filled with a cloud of smoke and the nicotine ran through my veins, putting another cloud over my busy mind. I hadn't had the satisfaction for much too long. Just as I was taking a long drag I heard something rustle behind the pine tree that sat a few feet away from me. Alarmed, I jumped up with my cigarette still in hand and rounded the other side of the tree to find Sherlock slouched against the tree with a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth.

We stared each other for what seemed like hours in surprise and then simultaneously exclaimed, "You smoke?"

As we said it we both retrieved our notebooks to add to each others' list of faults.

"How long have you?" he mumbled, scrawling the words down furiously.

"About a year," I replied. "You?" I sat down next to him and inhaled another puff of the bitter smoke. I didn't find that it tasted at all good but for some reason I used it anyway.

"Same," he answered putting his notebook beside him.

"What do you write?" I asked setting my bag down next to my side.

Before answering he took a long drag and blew a ring of smoke into the sky where the sun was setting, "Stories."

There was a silence following, but this time it was comfortable unlike before. I flicked the butt of my cigarette out into the yard and let out a deep sigh.

"I knew that you had a supply in your bag," Sherlock mumbled stretching and flicking the end of his into the yard too.

"Really? I knew you had an idea of what was in my bag, but how did you know it was that?" I questioned suspiciously sliding my eyes to meet his eyes.

He looked at me in a way that meant I should know this, and he was right, with my reputation I should have known. Sherlock then began his deduction, "You guarded your bag in such a way that told me you hid something in it. Next is your breath-"

I cut him off. "What about my breath?" I growled.

"Well if you would've let me finish, you would know," he snipped.

"Fine," I sighed. "Go on."

"Thank you. Now then," he began. "As I was about to say your breath is always extremely minty, yet your teeth are not as white as they should be with that much brushing meaning you smoke."

"Same to you, peppermint patty," I muttered reaching in my bag for my music player.

After I put my headphones on Sherlock asked, "What are you listening to, almighty mint?"

"Nothing you would enjoy, cinnamon swirl," I replied, flipping through my Stevie Wonder collection.

"Well how would I know if you don't tell me, spearmint cyclone?" he inquired, turning to face me.

"Superstition," I muttered in response.

He nodded for a moment, considering my choice, and then shook his head while a disgusted look covered his face.

"You were right, I don't like it."

"Of course I was."

We both leaned back against the tree enjoying the warm air that was cooling off from its earlier scorching temperature.

After a few minutes of silence I asked the question that had been racking my mind ever since I had found him, "Do you want to quit?"

"Quit what?" He murmured closing his eyes.

"You know what," I shot back.

"Depends," he replied, standing slowly and reaching into the air to stretch his back.

"Explain," I groaned as I stretched in the same pattern.

He turned to look at me for a long moment before he gave me a response. "You know, Alex. Think. Why do you?" He didn't give me chance to answer before he pushed on to keep going forward with his point. "My mind is like a train on the tracks, racing out of control constantly. The drugs and cigarettes are the only way I can slow it down for any matter of time. If I don't have it, I go mad. Obviously from withdraw, but also from overwork. Is that the same reason as you?"

"You're right, I use it to calm my mind from its path to destroy itself."

"I always am," he boasted as he started back towards the house.

I raced to catch with his long strides and punched him in the arm for his comment.

"You never answered my question," I said dashing in front of him so I was facing him.

He sighed, "Of course I want to quit when my mind is relaxed, but when I have to think, why would I quit?"

I gave it thought before coming up with something, "I know you enjoy games that involve the mind just as much as I do. Why don't we make it another game to see who can quit first. To win you have to quit completely before summer is over. Deal?"

He pondered this for a few seconds before giving me the answer that I knew was coming. "It's on."

"Cool. Race you back to the house?"

"Go!" He shouted and we were off.

There was no advantage since we both had bad lungs and bare feet. Our feet pounded on the ground and we were tied for first, but at the last second when we were about fifty yards from the house, Sherlock pulled ahead by about two steps and won by seconds.

"Darn it!" I exclaimed as I bent over panting.

I could practically hear his grin, he was so proud of himself. Unbending, I looked up at him and scowled as we headed back inside. We were welcomed by the unhappy face of Aunt Violet as she raised her eyebrow when we entered.

"Hello, mummy. How was the card game?" Sherlock asked with a completely innocent and fake smile as he look his mother in the eyes.

"Fine," she muttered and before she had time to ask where we were and what we were doing we both dashed down the hallway and listened to her calling us back.

By the time we got to the stair case, we were both giggling and when we were by our doors it was full-out, guffawing laughter. We both flopped backwards on my bed and laughed hysterically for no apparent reason. I felt tears dripping down my face and my stomach cramping from it.

"Any ideas on this scenario, mastermind?" I giggled.

"Not the slightest," he sighed, attempting to calm his body.

"Whoooo," I gasped as I sat up and glanced down at a now-frowning Sherlock.

"Alex, I'm not going to be able to do it," he whispered, all of a sudden letting down his stone front and sounding vulnerable.

"Don't worry, I'll help you if you help me," I said and involuntarily grabbed his hand in mine and gave it a gentle squeeze and I felt a little pressure on my hand from his.

We sat like that for a few minutes until I decided to ask, "Do you have friends?"

"No," he snorted in response, turning back into his old self and sitting up. "Do you?"

"What do you think?"

"Yes?"

"No, genius. I'm not the nice friend type if you haven figured that out yet," I retorted.

"Hmmph," he muttered in return and stood. "Favorite school subject?" He sat down in the chair in the corner.

"Chemistry, you?"

"Same."

My turn. "Favorite teacher?"

His face turned to an expression of pure disgust. "None. Ever. You?"

"Same. Despised every one of them."

"Favorite activity?" he inquired, leaning back and pressing his hands underneath his chin.

"Writing and doing experiments on my free time. You?"

"Once again the same."

We went on like that until dinner and by that time we knew everything about the other from their favorite animal to their favorite cigarette brand. Dinner went a little something like this.

"How was your day, Mycroft?" Uncle William asked while eating a salad.

"Oh, just lovely, father." Mycroft replied before taking a sip of water.

The interesting thing about that was that neither of them acknowledged that Sherlock and I were even in the room, let alone on the planet.

"Any new news on the investments, Mycroft dear?" Asked Aunt Violet.

"I'm afraid not, mummy."

That was where it got interesting. At first it was a giggle that escaped my body and then for the second time that night my stomach was cramping and tears were streaming down my face. Everyone was gawking at my appalling dinner manners.

"What is so funny?" Aunt Violet questioned.

I took a deep breath and stifled my laughter before responding, "I cannot believe that Sherlock and Mycroft, for being adults or almost adults, still choose to call you mummy," I finished and was back to snickering.

"Would you like to retreat to your room for the night Alexis?" she inquired, disgusted.

"No," I muttered, looking down at my lap.

"Then hold back that atrocious laughter and rude comments for another time and place."

That was the end of it. Well, until Sherlock and I went upstairs for the night. It was 7 o'clock when I unlocked and opened the door to my room and I was utterly exhausted from the long day. I was so exhausted that I didn't notice Sherlock had trailed me into my room. When I flopped on my bed I laid on my back and stared at the white ceiling and the light. As I was becoming drowsy and my eyes were getting heavy a face appeared in my sight. I let out a yelp and bolted upright, cracking heads with the other person. Sherlock grunted and held his forehead in his hand.

"What the heck is wrong with you?" I squeaked in distress as I, too, held my head in my hand.

Instead of answering my question he decided to on with why he was in my room. "She made us call her that when we were children and apparently it stuck."

"Really?"

"Why would I lie?"

"Just checking. Is that all that you wanted?"

He looked at me and I saw a purple goose egg growing on his head. "Yeah, I just wanted to make sure you knew that we don't call her that out of pleasure."

With that, he retreated from my bedroom silently. I shrugged, stretched, got a pair of pajamas out of a drawer, and headed for the bathroom. Quickly, I threw on the new clothes and scrubbed my face clean. I let a large yawn and ambled out into my room. Just as I was getting comfortable in bed, I realized that my ceiling light was still blaring. Rolling my eyes, I rolled out of bed and flipped the switch off. When I did that I figured out that my lamp wasn't on, making my room impossible to navigate. I then switched the light back on, trudged over to my lamp and turned it on, and then trudged back over and turned the ceiling light off once and for all. _Going to bed should not take that much effort,_ I thought as I climbed into the queen-sized mattress that was beckoning me. Before turning off the light, I decided to reflect on my day. For the first few days, it had gone pretty well next to my standards of good days. I mean, if getting sent to the principal's office three times on my first day was pretty good then you could assume how low my standards were. Another thing that happened was that I figured out I had quite a bit in common with my mastermind of a cousin and that now he was basically my only friend. _Did I really just think that?_ I thought. _Wow Alex, that is pathetic._ That was the last thing I thought before sleep engulfed my mind and body.

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**Well that's it for now! Like it? Love it? Left a lipstick mark on your screen? Don't like it? Hate it? Getting the bat out of the garage? As always feedback is very welcome! Due to Memorial Day it is a long weekend so I will try and get the next chapter up possibly on Monday. Don't quote me on that though!**


	6. Chapter 5: The Patches of a Holmes

**Hello again! I know I am very late with this chapter, once again. So this chapter looks a bit into Alex's life as a child and deals with some of Sherlock and Alex's problems with drugs. I hope you guys enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Once again I sadly own nothing but Alex.**

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I was running down the stairs of an old building and was scared out of my mind. The only thing that made this less scary was that Sherlock was just ahead of me. He looked about twenty, so I guessed that I was about the same age. Anyway, back to the scary part. The entire building behind us was collapsing as we ran. I heard a loud man's dying scream of anguish. In the distance I could hear an alarm screaming.

Then I heard another scream. My scream.

=A=H=A=H=A=H=A=H=A=H=A=H=A=H=A=H=A=H=A=H=A=H=A=H=A=H=A=H=A=H=A=H=A=H=A=H=A=H=A=H=A=H=A=H=A=H=A=H=A=H=A=H=A=H=A=H=A=H

I woke up with sweat running down my face and my pajamas clinging to my damp skin. Quickly, I slapped the top of my alarm clock to turn it off. As I was composing myself, my doorknob jiggled and suddenly my locked door was forced open by a wild eyed Sherlock.

"What is it?" He asked frantically. "Why were you screaming?"

Excuse time. "There was a... Um, spider... On my, uh, bed... It's gone now so bye bye!" I stuttered with a wave of my hand to finish it.

"Really, Alex? The great and powerful mind is scared of a tiny spider. What did you do to it anyway?" he asked, looking between the hand I raised and my bed.

"I ate it," I deadpanned.

He raised an eyebrow. "If you're scared of spiders then you wouldn't have eaten it, though in many cultures they do eat spiders. These cultures also eat other insects such as-" I cut him off by walking over and placing my hand firmly over his mouth.

He had a scowl spread across his face and just as I was getting ready to speak I felt something wet on my hand.

"_Eeewww_!" I yelped and pulled back my hand.

"As I was saying, in other cultures people eat insects such as the cricket, grasshopper-"

I cut him off once again, but this time it was to ask, "did you seriously just lick my hand?"

"Of course. If you can take eating a spider, you can obviously take being licked by your cousin," he replied with a smirk and retreated back to his room.

"Sicko," I muttered under my breath and looked at my clock.

It was 7:32 which meant I had about half an hour until breakfast. Great. I grabbed a red and black plaid shirt and a black shirt to go under it. The others things I grabbed were dark denim cut off shorts and red flip flops. I dashed into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

"Bloody hell!" I screeched.

The reason being is that I had the water turned to warm, but the faucet was practically spewing ice cubes. I decided the shower was playing a game of Opposite Day so I turned it all the way down to cold and was promptly scorched by a downfall of lava.

"Well," I said, talking to the shower, "two can play this game."

_Alex, are you seriously fighting with the shower?_ I asked myself.

"Never mind. Have your fun," I muttered and stepped out of the insane shower, grabbing my shampoo and conditioner as I went. Today I was going to try and wash my head in the sink.

As I turned on the sink I mumbled, "here goes nothing," and dunked my head in the warm water.

It went well other than I had a tremendous neck ache afterward, which was a large bother. Once I was dressed, I French braided my hair and put in my contacts. I checked the clock as I walked out of the bathroom. It read 8:02._ I'll be fashionably late,_ I thought as I sauntered out of my room. I decided as I was passing Sherlock's room it would be a good idea to see if he was already downstairs or already losing the game. Just as I knocked on the door, it opened and he looked a bit stunned to see me. He was wearing brown cargo shorts and a sky blue t-shirt.

"Going down to breakfast?" he asked, regaining his stone faced composure and exiting his room.

"Yeah. You?" I asked, which was kind of a stupid question.

"No, I'm going to the moon," he replied and darted ahead of me.

I guess I deserved that from the earlier spider-eating incident. When I got downstairs, Sherlock was already seated at the table which made me no longer look fashionably late. Everyone stared at me until I sat down and then they were too distracted by the food to notice me. I took a plain toasted bagel and smeared strawberry cream cheese on it, even though I despised the flavor of fake strawberries. For breakfast, I had a bite of the bagel and a small glass of orange juice. The reason for this meal meant for a mouse was that I felt like if I ate anything substantial, it would make a reappearance later that day. Sherlock actually ate something that morning. He had half a blueberry muffin with butter and a glass of milk. Of course everyone else at the table had their plates stacked to the ceiling and were gorging themselves to a gruesome extent. I held my stomach, sickened greatly.

As soon as possible, I decided to try and excuse myself from the table. "May I be excused? I asked as politely as possible.

Uncle William nodded his head and I darted back up to my room and closed the door, locking it behind me. I flopped on my back and concentrated on holding my tiny breakfast in my stomach. _God I need a smoke_, I thought desperately. _No Alex,_ I shunned myself firmly. _You don't want to lose, do you?_ I curled into a small ball on my side, held my breath, closed my eyes, and started reciting the periodic table of elements in my head to take my mind off of the extreme nausea. When I finished, I opened my eyes slowly and felt better. I stood up, once again a slow motion, and went to see if Sherlock was back in his room. There was errand that I needed to run and he had the jeep at his fingertips. Time to be a suck up. Not something I was overly fond of. I politely knocked on his door. When there was no answer I huffed and turned around just to practically hit my head on the ceiling from jumping so high.

"Looking for me?" Sherlock asked innocently.

"No I'm just knocking on your door for kicks. Don't sneak up on me like that either. You almost gave me a heart attack!" I retorted, glaring at him.

Right after I said that, I remembered what I was there for.

"Hey Sherlock, I have a favor to ask of you," I said as pleasantly as I was capable of mustering.

"The answer is no," he muttered and pushed past me while fishing his bedroom key out his pocket.

"You haven't even heard the question yet," I pouted, tugging on his sleeve as he stalked into his room.

"Does it sound like I care?" he snapped, spinning around on his heels to look down at me.

An idea popped into my head as I was about to give up. "Oh well," I mumbled pretending to give in and turning around. "I guess I'll just find your keys and steal your jeep."

"Steal?" he inquired.

"Oh sorry, I meant_ borrow,_" I said casually as I trotted away.

"What do you need?" he huffed.

"Now that's the right kind of attitude. I need to borrow your keys to run an errand to the drug store," I told him as I faced him again.

"I'll drive," he replied walking past me, "I need to buy something as well."

We raced down the stairs and silently wandered into the garage without anyone noticing. I hopped into the passenger seat and patted my pocket to make sure I had my wallet. Sherlock got in and stuffed the key in the ignition. We pulled out and started on the long trek into the city.

"Where did your parents go?" I asked looking out the window at the countryside.

"No idea," he responded. "And furthermore, I couldn't care less if they took the next shuttle to Mars."

"There we go again with the planets," I snickered, turning to look at him.

"Enlighten me."

"At breakfast you were going to the moon, and now you want your parents to take a shuttle to Mars," I said, facing back toward the window.

"Figure of speech, dumbo."

"Going to the moon for breakfast isn't," I retorted.

"Wanting my parents to go to Mars so they can be as far away from me as possible is."

"If you want far, try Pluto," I said.

"Do shut up," he muttered and went back to focusing on the barren road that was ahead of us.

I only snickered in response. Even though I had only known Sherlock for one full day, it now felt like a lifetime for some reason. We treated each other like we were brother and sister.

About five minutes later, we pulled into the parking lot of a large drugstore. This time I got out faster than Sherlock and beat him to the door. I didn't want him to see what I was buying. Rushing in, I tried to decide what isle they would be in. I decided my best and most logical bet was to try the medication one first and sure enough there they were, sitting on the shelf only an inch out of my reach.

"Dang it," I growled, stretching a bit further.

"Need a hand?" someone said from behind me.

The person's hand reached just above mine and grabbed the small blue box for me.

Without looking at my assistant, I knew exactly who it was. "Must you stalk me Sherlock?" I snatched the box out of his grasp as I spun around.

"I wasn't stalking you I was going to purchase the same...object...as you," he replied, defending himself and grabbing an identical package off the shelf.

We looked at each other for a moment before taking our purchase to the counter. I put mine on the counter and then I grabbed Sherlock's from his iron grip and1 placed it next to mine. The cashier glanced at me questioningly for a moment, so I gave him a large grin which I was pretty sure frightened him to a maximum extent. He rang up the items and I handed him Mycroft's card from my wallet. I shot a quick look at Sherlock to find him smirking as the man behind the counter swiped the card.

"Mycroft?" the cashier questioned suspiciously.

"Problem?" I returned innocently, but with a look that could melt him.

"Uh, no," he muttered and gave me the receipt to sign.

I gave a random guess at how Mycroft would sign something and handed it back to him. He handed me a white plastic bag containing the two packages and we left.

"Nice work," Sherlock whispered under his breath.

"Why thank you, dear cousin," I responded with a smirk, but I didn't dare look at him.

We walked back to the jeep and hopped in. Sherlock started up the car and backed out of his parking space with ease that I couldn't achieve if I pulled out a thousand times. Once we were on the road out of the city I switched on the radio to my station.

Sherlock groaned. "Not this game again."

"Nope, just messing with you," I revealed and switched it to the one station we agreed on.

Unconsciously, I began tapping my foot and bobbing my head to the beat of the music. I heard something other than the music so I glanced over at Sherlock assuming it was him. He was strumming his fingers on the steering wheel in a rather annoying matter. That was when I realized what I was doing and I realized how much I was annoying myself. I stopped immediately and just as I was getting ready to tell Sherlock off, his strumming came to a halt. Rolling my eyes, I figured out quickly that he was doing that not for pleasure, but just in an attempt to spite me.

"For that," I began as I leaned for the radio, "you get to listen to this." I finished as I switched it to my favorite station.

"I don't think so," he returned with a smirk, as he switched it to classical and flipped something on the steering wheel.

When I went to try and switch it back, nothing happened.

"What did you do?" I questioned impatiently.

He chuckled. "I thought you would have figured that out."

"Well I haven't."

"I locked it to classical," he announced triumphantly.

"That's low."

"Exactly."

I plugged my ears for the rest of the way home and tried to ignore Sherlock's proud grin. When we pulled into the garage, I leapt out before he was even parked with the bag and rushed inside. Mycroft was waiting for us next to the door, but I wouldn't have any of his crap that day. I wanted nothing more than to get to my room and open up my package. I was agitated from not being able to smoke and having Sherlock decide to play his dumb classic music multiplied it by ten. That was not a good day.

"Sod off, Mycroft," I muttered and shoved past him.

I dashed up to my room and unlocked the door as quickly as humanly possible. Slamming it behind me and locking it I ripped one of the packages open and placed the little patch on my forearm. I flopped down on my bed after that, careful to avoid the packages, and let my thoughts lift me away. It felt like hours later, but I guessed it was only minutes, when I felt a figure looming over me.

"What are you doing in here?" I asked groggily.

"You stole my merchandise," Sherlock responded and I felt him lifting the bag from my bed and digging around in it.

"You broke into my room," I said, but it came out pouting-like.

"You deserved it."

"Shut up."

I opened my eyes to find him putting three nicotine patches on his arm.

"What the heck are you doing?" I asked, propping myself up on my elbow and stared at him wide eyed.

"Putting on patches," he said and pressed on the third one firmly.

I looked at the unopened instruction manual lying in my bed. Even I knew you only put on one and I didn't read mine either.

"You know it's only one a day, right?" I inquired as he sat down in the wooden chair that sat in he corner.

"Good, now I'm set for three days," he replied calmly.

I sighed. "Fine, have it your way, carcass."

He looked at me with a look that could kill. Not with good looks but with sheer frustration. After about another three minutes, I had dozed off again only to be awakened once again by Sherlock.

"Bored," he was moaning every few seconds and getting louder each time.

"What the heck do you want me to do about it?" I asked impatiently opening my eyes.

He shrugged groggily with heavy eyelids. I licked my lips and suddenly realized how dry they were and how thirsty I was.

"Do you have anything to drink?" I groaned as I rolled out my bed and fell on the floor, knocking the wind out of myself.

"First, that was an epic fail, and secondly, what do you want? Water, beer, wine, juice, milk, or what?" He asked.

I sat up before I answered. "What do you want?"

"My parents have a wine cabinet. I'll go get a bottle," he said and dashed downstairs.

I slowly got up and then cracked my back twice before I slipped my flip flops back on an exited my room. _What are you doing Alex?_ I asked myself as I trotted down the stairs. _Something you've never done,_ I answered and leaned against the railing at the bottom, waiting for my cousin's return. He walked silently back and pointed to the front door. Sherlock had two glasses in one hand and a wine bottle in the other. I carefully opened the door, making sure it didn't creak in the process, and leapt gracefully outside, closing it the same way I had opened it. We walked down to the pond silently, yet comfortably. When we reached the pond we sat down next to the tree, both leaning our backs against it. Once we were settled Sherlock held the bottle and opener looking rather confused.

"Let me do it," I sighed and snatched it out of his grip.

I unscrewed the lid in a quick matter and poured each glass to just below the rim.

"Obviously you have no knowledge on how to pour wine," Sherlock mumbled as he retrieved his glass from my hand.

I merely shrugged in response and took a tiny sip from the glass I was holding. When the wine hit my tongue I had to resist the urge to spit it out. It was bitter, but had a flavor that was not all bad. I looked over at Sherlock and noticed he was taking larger sips. Maybe it will taste better that way I thought and took a large swig from my glass. It made the taste not as sharp at first, but the after taste was still just as pungent as the first time if not more. We finished our wine in silence. The more I drank the smoother it went down. We both poured ourselves another large glass and finished it as well. By that time I was starting to feel light and tipsy. I was starting to feel really good until Sherlock asked a question that stung.

"Where's your father, Alex?" he asked his voice slurring a bit.

"Gone," I replied bitterly with a large slur clinging to my words. "He died when I was eleven. The summer after the family reunion when we first met when we were ten years old. Some stupid company accident is what I was told by my mum. God, I hate her," I finished and took another large gulp from my glass.

Instead if making me feel good now, it only made me feel the loss of my dad.

I went on. "I loved him so much and then he was gone. My mum got lost in a bottle when he was gone. She left me to fend for myself when I was only eleven. She started dating these gross men, if you can call them that, when I was twelve. One of them beat me until I was a pulp. What did she do, you say? She made a weak attempt to yank him off of me and then when she couldn't, she ran up to her room crying. The next morning she didn't even apologize for what had happened. I'd say she's had ten boyfriends since he died. I always loved him more than her because if he could've, he would've given me the world to make me happy. That probably sounds like he spoiled me, but compared to my mum who wouldn't even get me a new pair of shoes, he was perfect in every way," I finished and felt the tears streaming down my face.

I realized then that I wasn't only crying, but sobbing. My shoulders shook as I hiccuped making, my thin body shake.

"I'm sorry for this," I sobbed, gesturing to myself.

Some people are able to cry prettily but me, I turn into a mess. My nose runs, my face puffs up and turns red, and I start to hiccup obnoxiously.

"Don't worry. I understand," he whispered and I felt an awkward arm around my shoulder.

At first I felt hesitant, but then I buried my face in his bony shoulder and let myself cry my heart out. His arm felt strong around me and all the sudden I felt as though he was my dad. After about ten minutes we picked up our stuff an tripped back to the house with now empty bottle. For some reason he kept his firm hold on me the entire way up to the house. When I opened the door the unpleasant face of Aunt Violet welcomed us in. _Busted_, my foggy mind thought as she stared down at us, daring one of us to make a move to escape her wrath. Great.

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**So there it is for now! Like it? Love it? Gave your electronic device a nice big hug? Don't like it? Hate it? Stepped on your electronic device? I'd love to hear your thoughts about the story. If I get more than three reviews I might try and post another chapter Monday! Otherwise, it's going to be a week. Hope you enjoyed!**


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